


we're filling up days on a dime

by JaneScarlett



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-14 00:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14759339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneScarlett/pseuds/JaneScarlett
Summary: Real life is made up of moments.  (Chapters based on prompts from thebarsondaily.)





	1. He didn't have to justify a thing.  Not one thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title is from Sondheim's 'Merrily'.  
> Huge, immense amounts of thanks to Savageandwise for the encouragement and the chapter title. (You're a terrible influence. Love you anyway.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: justify

It’s not until Liv mumbles something that he realizes she’s awake, blinking sleepily at the glow from his tablet.

“Sorry,” Rafael whispers, hastily switching it off. He leans over, intending to brush a conciliatory kiss on her lips, but she surprises him. Her arms wrap around him – she simultaneously arches up, pulls him closer – and then he can’t breathe, can’t think; all he can do is keep kissing her until they gasp for air, clutching each other, smiling shyly.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” He strokes her hair back from her face. This is new, and they are still figuring things out, learning how to fit into each other’s lives in this new more-than-friends reality. Coordinating their schedules is the least of it.

“It’s fine,” Liv says. She curls onto her side, facing him. “I’m getting used to you reading in bed. What was it this time?”

He shrugs. “Some political thing. Boring, work related-”

“Unlikely,” she interrupts.

“Why would you say that?”

She doesn’t answer, seeming content to trail one fingertip up and down his arm as though she’s distracted. It’s not going to work. He squints at her; she meets his gaze steadily. They’re an even match and they both know it. 

Rafael catches her hand, kisses her knuckles. “What gave me away?”

“You don’t do work related reading in bed-”

“Relying on prior knowledge...”

“I could see over your shoulder-”

“Unfair advantage. And I shouldn't have to justify my reading material.” He is trying for calm dignity, aware that he’s failing. Liv snuggles a little closer to him. He can feel her trying to suppress her laughter. 

“You don’t; but imagine my surprise? I go to bed with someone who quotes Vonnegut, and wake up to find him reading about Quidditch…”

He kisses her. Partly because he wants to, and partly to stop her laughter. And partly because he knows he doesn't have to justify a thing.


	2. Saturday Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday night used to have different connotations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: reputation.
> 
> Thanks to Savageandwise.

His first thoughts upon waking up are that his neck aches, there are weights pinning down his arms, and he's much too warm to be comfortable. Rafael blinks, feeling disoriented. The room is quiet except for low murmurs from the TV, where an old Disney movie about a pair of mice flickers across the screen. There are three bowls on the table; two with smears of melted ice cream, one licked clean. It's only when he lowers his eyes to check the warm weights at his sides that he finally relaxes, smothering a chuckle.

Saturday night used to have different connotations, but now it's this: Noah sprawled to his left on the couch, fast asleep with his legs over the armrest and his head against Rafael's side. Liv is asleep on the right; her arm around his waist, her face nestled into his neck. He can feel her breath against his collarbone - he amuses himself for a moment, timing his own in response so they're breathing in synch - and because of that, he knows when she wakes up. 

Unlike him, Liv always wakes up alert. She makes a half-hearted attempt to move; he pulls her closer, instinctively.

“Rafa,” she whispers, “we should go to bed. And this must be killing your back.”

“I'm fine,” he insists, even though she's not wrong. It must be late for them to have all fallen asleep in front the TV. His neck aches already, his back probably isn't far behind, he'll regret this tomorrow... and he still doesn't want to move and let either of them go.

“Why, are you enjoying the movie so much that... oh.” She pauses, considering. “Never mind, you would. Miss Bianca and Bernard save orphans and go on rescue missions. They're not Disney's usual chatty mice.”

Rafael kisses her forehead, gives her a little squeeze. “Hey, don't disrespect Gus and Jaq. Those boys had a great fashion sense.”

She tips her head slightly, so she can see his face. “You're saying your reputation as a well-dressed counselor lets you judge the merits of cartoon mice?”

“You sound like you doubt my credentials.” He curves his arm around her, cradling her closer even as he keeps his eyes fixed on the screen. He wants to look at her, raise his eyebrows and pretend to be nonchalant, but he's afraid he'll just grin at her like a besotted idiot.

Not that it would matter. Liv knows him. Six years in a professional relationship, six months in a personal one. She even knows the bits of him he'd hide from anyone else. 

“I question,” Liv finally says. “Challenge. Drive you crazy. But I never doubt you. 

“Or,” she sounds like she’s fighting not to laugh, “your fashion sense.” 

She presses a light kiss against his cheek, settles back against his side. Rafael sneaks a glimpse at her. She's watching the screen, not looking at him. But she's grinning, and he finally allows himself to smile, too. 

This is just an ordinary Saturday night with the people he loves. He's way too warm, and just a little bit uncomfortable; but he doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy.


	3. a human being's made of more than air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of the many things she loves about him: she loves watching him get dressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: invisible
> 
> Chapter title is from _Chicago_ ['Mr. Cellophane']. Huge, immense amounts of thanks to Savageandwise, and Goddessdel.

Of the many things she loves about him: she loves watching him get dressed. There is a captivating elegance to the procedure; she loses track of how long her attention has been focused on the swift, sure movements of his hands -smoothing hem and sleeves, adjusting suspenders, fastening cufflinks- until Rafael clears his throat, surprising her into looking up to meet his eyes in the mirror. 

“See something you like?” He doesn't drop eye contact as he selects a burgundy paisley tie, loops it around his neck; and she's about to tell him the truth ( _'yes, you.'_ ) when she realizes he's also giving his best lazy, mocking smirk. 

He's not expecting a serious answer. And, honestly, there will always be a part of her that delights in teasing Rafael, when she can get away with it.

So she shrugs, casually. “I was just thinking that I miss all your colorful ties and suspenders and pocket squares.”

“Really.” He doesn't sound convinced. She doesn't blame him.

“I haven't seen you wearing some of those pinks and oranges since...” She pauses, putting together a timeline in her head for the last time she saw one particular pair of striped suspenders... and then she feels stupid. 

It's been _years_. She's not sure what it says for her detecting abilities that she didn't realize how long it's been since he'd traded boldly patterned suspenders for solid colors, and blinding ties for sober prints or stripes; but she's angry at herself for not noticing. And seeing Rafael's smirk fade to a concerned frown only makes her feel worse.

“Since Terrance Reynolds,” he says, quietly.

It's all he needs to say. Liv bites her lip, understanding immediately. The death threats. Sober colors would've made it easier for him to blend in, to avoid being a target... oh, it makes sense, but she's still suddenly, irrationally unhappy she hadn't noticed earlier. She's sad that back then they'd been arguing so much that he hadn't told her. She's angry she can't fix everything retroactively. 

She can't bear to look at him. She looks down at her hands; and across the room, Rafael gives a very loud, very exasperated sigh.

“Liv,” he says shortly, “stop it.” 

She knows he's still watching her in the mirror. She's knows she should look at him, and she doesn't know what she expects to see in his eyes.

“I know what you're doing,” Rafael continues. “You're trying to blame yourself for something? For me changing my wardrobe? Don't. I didn't get rid of anything; I just bought new clothes.”

She tries to smile. “Must have been a hardship.”

“My wallet took a hit. I had to expand my closet space, too. We all survived.”

She actually manages to smile, then. Walks across the room so she can wrap her arms around him, rest her chin on his shoulder and close her eyes. He's warm and solid and comforting; and while she can't imagine it's remotely comfortable for him to continue tying a half-Windsor knot with her draped over his back, he doesn't try to shake her off.

“So,” she mutters into his ear, “you were hoping that avoiding bright colors would make you invisible?” She feels Rafael drop his hands to cover where hers rest on his stomach.

“It worked well enough. _You_ couldn't see me, no matter how many times I asked you out for drinks.”

It takes a moment for his words and the teasing tone in his voice to register; and then she opens her eyes to see Rafael's reflection smirking at her in the mirror. That lazy, mocking smirk... She raises an eyebrow, tightening her arms around his middle until he squirms, turning around to face her.

“There's a difference,” she says, looking straight into his eyes, “between not seeing you, and being afraid to see you.

“But, Rafa, you were _never_ invisible to me.”

Of the things she loves about him: she loves when his lazy, mocking smirk softens into a gleeful smile, right before he kisses her. And -even though she loves watching him get dressed- she has to admit: she loves it even more when she can help reverse the process.


	4. playing the game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia is a force of nature. She's like a lodestone, she's practically magnetic; and something in him will always be drawn to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: magnetic. (I'm clearly a bit behind with these. And can't keep to a word count.)
> 
> Savageandwise and GoddessDel. Love you both.

They’re standing outside the precinct the first time she mentions starting a tradition; and he can’t help but laugh.

“Really?” he asks. “You want to have a Game Night?”

“Noah has to learn to win and lose gracefully,” she answers defensively, taking a sip of coffee. “No more pushing kids in the sandbox.”

He scoffs. “He hasn't done that in a long time. Anyway, a board game isn't a miracle cure, Liv. I know,” he holds one hand up to stop the complaints he knows she's about to make, “I know there’s research… but, we didn't grow up playing games with our families every week. And we turned out fine.”

She glances at him out the corner of her eye and doesn't say a word. But there is something challenging in her posture, in her expression, that makes him want to groan. He knows how this will turn out. Olivia is a force of nature. She's like a lodestone, she's practically magnetic; and something in him will always be drawn to her. He will always try to help her, to have her back… 

Even on something like this.

She arches an eyebrow, still not saying anything. She doesn't need to. She knows he's going to concede; and he's going to do so in the most non-committal way he can manage.

“Maybe I’ll try to make it sometime.”

“Noah would like that.” She gives him a tiny nod, resting her hand briefly on his shoulder. It can’t be for more than a few seconds, but the warmth of her skin feels like the sun. He finds himself swaying, wanting to lean into her, and missing her when she walks away into work.

* * *

Somehow, he’s not surprised when she sends him a text later that same day.

_Game Night starts at 6pm. If you want?_

Objectively, he can’t think of anything that would be less appealing. He’s never been the sort of person who plays board games; and he’s certainly never been the type to do so with small children. But 6pm still sees him arrive at her door with a box from the Doughnut Plant, before he sits down to play some sort of Memory Matching game. Jesse loses interest quickly -he supposes she’s too young to really understand the rules- and falls asleep on Carisi’s lap. Noah lasts a few rounds -finally winning the last one- before Liv puts him to bed, tucking Jesse in beside him.

And then, the squad continues to play. With the kids gone, the game switches to Monopoly and takes a much more competitive turn. It doesn’t take long until they’re all cheating: Liv, Carisi, Rollins.

Even Fin, who shrugs nonchalantly when Rafael catches him: “That’s the way to play the game.”

“That’s the way all of you are playing the game,” Rafael corrects, picking up his scotch. “I’m playing the right way.”

“The boring way” Rollins mocks, flashing him a toothy smile. “Barba, I thought you, of all people, would play to win.”

“Maybe he thinks winning isn’t everything?” Carisi is casually sliding $100 out of the bank, and into his pile as he speaks.

“Is winning worthwhile if you cheat? And by the way,” Rafael raises an eyebrow, glaring over the rim of his glass, “I saw that, Carisi.”

“Saw what? Nothing to see.”

“Liv?” She’s sitting next to him, and even though she’s been cheating too, Rafael still hopes to appeal to her better nature. She could stop their gross misconduct, they’ll listen to her. Her apartment, her game night, her rules. But then he realizes that she’s laughing. Her eyes are shining, cheeks flushed; she’s glowing, like she’s been lit up with happiness.

“What?” she asks.

He can’t actually speak, for a moment. He’d thought of her as magnetic, outside the precinct; Olivia Benson, drawing him in, with nothing more than a sidelong look and challenging expression. That was nothing compared to how he feels now. She's not a lodestone; she’s the sun, and he’s a flower turning to bask in her glow.

He shakes his head, manages to smile. “You’re not going to tell them to stop.”

“Probably not.” She sounds smug.

“Rule breakers.” He’s been trying not to lean into her, but it doesn't matter. She slides a little closer.

“And here I thought you'd grown to like us anyway.”

He has. In the last few years, he's grown to like this motley crew; and he's grown to like one person more than all the rest. But he still meets her eyes squarely.

“I plead the Fifth.”

Carisi openly guffaws, Rollins and Fin both try to hide their grins. Liv laughs softly, leaning even closer.

“Sinners have much more fun, Rafael.” Her lips are so close to his ear that the damp heat of her breath makes him shudder. “Feel free to join us.”

“An invitation to join the Rebel Alliance? How unexpected. I'll have to decline.”

“Your loss.” She shifts even closer until her knee brushes against his thigh; and she's still laughing as they resume playing. 

Rafael sips his scotch, continues playing, and ignores the blatant cheating going on around him. And an hour later, he manages -barely- not to laugh at Rollins' disgruntled expression when he wins.

“How did - but you - you cheated, Barba!”

He shrugs. “Or maybe I'm just that good?”

Rollins is still sputtering indignantly when Carisi -with Jesse in his arms- eventually leads her away. Fin says the evening was better than he thought it would be, makes his good byes and leaves with them.

And then he's alone with Liv. She cleans the kitchen, he sorts game pieces back into the box. He's just settled back into the couch when she sits back down next to him.

“I saw what you did.” The look she's giving him - amused, exasperated- makes him want give up any pretenses of keeping his hands to himself. 

Luckily, he doesn't have to anymore. They're not in front of her workplace, or with their friends. He can give in to the attraction between them. Lean into her, invade her personal space; and it's mutual, she shifts until her legs are over his lap and she's tucked into his side.

“I played a good game.” He strokes his fingertips through her hair. She tilts her head to look inquisitively at him. 

“Oh, is that what you call cheating? A good game?”

“Where's your evidence? You can't prove a thing.”

“This isn't a courtroom; I'm allowed to trust my gut.”

“Still inadmissible.” He raises an eyebrow, smirking at her. “You're just angry you didn't win.”

She slides one hand over his chest until she can hook her arm around his neck. It's only been a few hours, but feels like he's been waiting days to kiss her.

“Congratulations on joining the rebels,” she teases. “Next week, you're going down.”

He's laughing, even as he kisses her. 

“I can't wait.”


End file.
